


a thousand cuts

by leepaceseyebrows



Category: Love Island (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, My first fic in years, Pining, extreme bromance, our sweet cinnamon roll has feelings, post disaster recoupling, slight mention of smut, the boys talk about their feelings, very little mc in this sry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-10-17 21:30:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20627840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leepaceseyebrows/pseuds/leepaceseyebrows
Summary: “remember when me and lucas nearly got into it because he’d coupled up with her?”





	a thousand cuts

**Author's Note:**

> my first fic in years but i cannot resist the tiny cream puff that is bobby. plus fusebox should’ve given us this scene.
> 
> based loosely on “death by a thousand cuts” by taylor swift.
> 
> written on my phone so there may be errors/no capital letters, sry.

a fire has settled in the pit of bobby’s stomach, engulfing every inch of him. his chest feels tight, struggles to help him breathe, and his hands are shaking.

the recoupling had been a disaster. priya had joked about it then but it was true. lucas had had his eyes on you since the day he’d come into the villa, except in those early days bobby had been able to reason away those tiny nuggets of doubt that crept in.  _ she’s with you, it doesn’t matter what he wants. _

the way you look at him… this had to be real. this had to mean something. it had to be worth fighting for.

right?

you’d woken him up that morning —  _you_,  he told himself,  _ not lucas  _ — to tell him the girls were going away for a few days. you kissed him. he told you if you left, he’d walk out right after you.

he’d meant that. maybe more than anything else he’d ever said.

the crew had decided to throw a welcome party for the new girls, but bobby isn’t in a welcoming mood. neither is noah. the two of them are in the same situation, really, and they commiserate over a few strong drinks away from the others. they both watch as the blokes who’d stolen their girls crack on with new ones. the only difference between them now is bobby decides to do something about it.

“fuck this,” bobby says, watching one of the new girls laugh at something lucas says and grab his arm. she’d tried it on him first, some line about how funny he was on the telly, but it’d gone over like a fart in church. he can’t even remember her name. “i’m going to have a word.”

noah looks over at him. “with who?”

“lucas.”

“you think that’s a good idea?” noah asks, eyebrows raised.

bobby rolls his eyes. “you can’t be serious, mate. he stole my girl and now i have to watch him graft on some new bird?”

“i know, but—“

bobby stands, straightening out his wrinkled button-up. his rage is laser-focused now. any images he used to see of you in his head had been replaced with red. every echo of laughter, every clink of a glass, every flirtatious look — it all just upsets him more. everything is red. he knows his face is flushed, he can feel it all the way down to his toes, but he doesn’t care, they need to have this out.

everyone had been so focused on jakub stealing hope away from noah that no one had thought to check on him. he needs answers. he needs to know why lucas would do this, not only to him but to you, too.

gary smiles wide as he sees him approaching. he manages half a drunken greeting when lucas turns to look at him, some ten-cent version of bobby’s girl hanging off his arm, lucas’s hand resting securely in the small of her back.

“can we have a word?” bobby asks, looking lucas dead in the eye for the first time since he recoupling.

lucas chuckles, glancing down at his new girl. “now? it’s a party, mate, why don’t—“

“i’m not your mate,” bobby says, words flat and eerily calm, “and we need to have this out. now.”

an uneasy silence settles over the kitchen. this isn’t bobby. bobby is the goofball who can’t commit, the one who knew better than anyone that this was just a game. this new bobby, all flushed anger and careful speech — no one knows who this bobby is.

lucas dares a glance at rahim. he’d told him in passing who he was going to choose at the recoupling, only back then it’d sounded so absurd it couldn’t possibly have been true. to his credit, rahim had tried to talk him out of it, told him he’d never seen bobby so careful about anything, but lucas shrugged him off.

“should i mediate?” rahim asks as he pushes himself off the counter. some redhead next to him — shannon, bobby thinks her name is — looks disappointed.

“no,” bobby answers, “this is between us.”

“i, uh — okay,” rahim resigns. he looks to the other islanders. “pool party, anyone?”

one of the new girls, the one who looks like hope, pulls a face. “not much of a party.”

for the first time since he arrived, the villa feels too small. claustrophobic. bobby feels everyone watching him, whispering, wondering what he’s going to do, say. there’s tension everywhere. the only sounds are the cicadas and the lapping of the pool water against the coping.

noah’s still sat on the daybeds, cautiously sipping from a flute of champagne. he watches, guard up, as bobby and lucas storm by. they find a corner away from everyone.

“let’s get this over with,” lucas says lackadaisically.

the fire in bobby burns brighter. “nah, you’re not gonna mug me off. not over something like this.”

“something like what?” lucas asks, almost incredulously. “it’s a game, mate. it’s not friend island. i like her so i chose her, simple as.”

bobby deflates. his face crumples as the anger leaves him, only it’s replaced by the most intense sadness he’s ever felt.

“it’s not a game,” he manages to say. “not to me. not with her.”

lucas shrugs. “i’m not going to apologise because you took this too seriously.”

bobby contemplates his words in his head. he knows he can’t compete with lucas, not superficially — he’s not posh or wealthy. he has too many freckles and his accent’s all fucked up. he probably earns about as much in a year as lucas would in a month.

despite all of that, you still chose him, every single time.

“do you even give a fuck about her?”

“what—“

“because i do,” bobby continues, the fire reignited now, “from the second i saw her, yeah? so don’t tell me this is a game. i’m in love with that girl—“

noah’s head snaps up just in time to see lucas laugh. “it’s been, like, two weeks. you’re not in love.”

all bobby sees is red.

but he sees you, too. everything is you.

noah manages to reach him and pull him away before he can react. his hand on bobby’s shoulder is reassuring and strong, seemingly the only calm left in the world. noah steers him to the kitchen and sits him on a stool, immediately busying himself to boil water for tea.

there’s an unspoken understanding there. bobby knows noah overheard, knows he’s in love with a girl he’s known all of two weeks. they’d talked early on, one of the first few days, about bobby’s inability to commit. even back then you were the only thing on his mind as he thought about all the relationships that never were. all the girls who’d shot him down. all but told him he wasn’t good enough.

“it’s early days but i think i’m already in trouble,” bobby remembers saying. he’d been watching behind his sunglasses as you laughed at something priya said. even if he went deaf, he’d remember that sound forever. he’d remember the way it made his heart swell. how it made him feel warm.

noah slides a steaming mug of tea in front of him and leans against the counter. the lights were due to shut off any minute now, and the villa was finally quiet. everyone else had gone to bed.

“alright, mate?”

bobby sighs and finally unclenches his fists. his palms are sweaty as he wipes them on his shorts. he doesn’t know much of anything right now, especially how he feels. is he alright? all he can think about is you — what you’re doing, if some other guy has already swept you off your feet, if you’re sleeping alone or with someone else.

“couldn’t tell you, to be honest.” he wraps his hands around the mug and just feels like crying.

“do you think i’m...” he trails off, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. his voice is raspy and dry and vulnerable. he can’t bring himself to make eye contact. “do you think i’m being a numpty?”

“nah,” noah says simply, “i think you really do love her.”

bobby looks to noah for guidance. “but there’s a difference, right? i’ve loved loads of girls. don’t know if i’ve ever been in love with one, though.”

noah blows on his tea, trying to cool it. “people say you’ll know when it happens, but i don’t — i’m not sure if that’s true.”

“what d’you mean?”

“i don’t think it’s something you feel,” noah says carefully, “i think it’s something you do. a verb. i think it’s a choice you have to make every single day.”

bobby laughs in spite of himself. “sounds dead on like love island, mate.”

noah snorts quietly. “that’s the name of the game, yeah?” his shoulders relax and he’s back to being serious. “we can all see it, mate. you’re a goner for sure.”

“is it the same with you and hope?”

there’s some guilt on noah’s face when he shrugs. he has to be careful with what he says out loud, what the cameras might pick up.

a quiet, easy silence falls between them as they finish their tea. they hear someone having sex upstairs, failing desperately to fully stifle the unashamed moaning, and they share a look as jakub’s name gets repeated over and over into the nighttime.

“brutal,” bobby says, once again remembering how disastrous the recoupling had been for both of them. “what a dickhead.”

noah nods, running his hands over his stubbly face. “coming on this show was just masochistic.”

“too right, mate.”

bobby finally stands from the stool, collecting both his and noah’s mugs. he sets them in the sink and rinses them quickly.

“wanna sleep with me tonight?” he jokes, nodding toward the daybeds.

“yeah, sure,” noah agrees. “we can hold each other as we both cry ourselves to sleep.”

the corners of bobby’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “aw, babe, i had no idea you were such a romantic.”

noah shoves him playfully as they make their way toward the daybeds. they do their best to strip down to their boxers in the dark, trying not to get tangled in their pants. noah leaves his shirt on and slides under the duvet, bobby wondering briefly if he should leave his on, too.

“i’ve been converted to little spoon now so i hope you don’t mind,” bobby jokes as he climbs into bed. he remembers the way your arm felt around his waist, the warmth of your cheek against his back.

“i’m not cuddling you, mate.”

bobby pouts. “you’d deny me this one request? after all i’ve been through?”

“don’t start,” noah says. his voice is serious but bobby knows he’s joking. “i just had to listen to the bloke who stole my girl go balls deep in someone else. fucking prick.”

bobby snorts. “we’re both in the shitter, eh? at least we’ve got each other. you reckon you’d pick me at the next recoupling?”

“i’d pick you over jakub or lucas for sure.”

bobby laughs. “‘cos i’m cuter, right?”

“nah, i just like fresh muffins in bed the morning after a nightcap, you know? don’t think either of them can bake.” a few moments of silence pass between them before noah quips, “you are cuter, though. i like a bloke with freckles.”

the comment catches bobby off guard and he roars with laughter. this sets off noah, too, and the two of them are clutching their stomachs and crying with laughter before long. the sound of someone’s padding footsteps is all that can get them to stop.

“i’m sleeping out here with you lot, sounds way more fun than anything going on inside,” gary says.

bobby shuffles closer to noah, leaving about a foot of space. “welcome to the lonely hearts club! be our guest.”

noah pushes him away as gary laughs. “think i’ll take the empty one. noah snores.”

bobby groans. “fuck me, how could i forget?”

they make small talk for awhile, talking about the new girls and what’d transpired while bobby and noah were sulking. everyone had overheard bobby saying he was in love, so it was bound to get out as soon as the girls were back.

“you think you’re gonna tell her?” gary asks. he wouldn’t admit it, but he was missing lottie just as bad.

bobby nods. “yeah, ‘course. when the time is right.” he closes his eyes as a lump forms in his throat again. “but, like, what if she meets someone there and he turns her head? what if this changes everything between us?”

he can’t bear the thought of losing you. of watching you come back with a different guy on your arm. someone that’s not him. he’s not the jealous type, but he knows it’d absolutely kill him to see you with someone else. to watch someone touch you the way he wants to. to hear someone tell you all the things he struggled to. to hear you laugh with someone else.

“you joking?” gary asks him. “not a chance.”

“you think? you don’t think someone there might be better—“

“no,” gary and noah say in unison.

bobby laughs. “that was well cute.”

gary fluffs his pillow. “you gotta give yourself some credit, mate. you’re a solid bloke. she’s just as lucky as you are.”

there’s an unfamiliar feeling in bobby’s chest and once again he feels like crying. he doesn’t deserve everyone’s kindness, especially when he’d been ready to fight lucas only a few hours ago.

“thanks, gaz,” bobby says. his voice is quiet, and the silence that punctuates his sentence settles between them.

noah begins snoring lightly as bobby groans, shoving his head under his pillow. he knows he should get some rest, knows the sunrise isn’t far off, but sleep hasn’t come easy since you’ve been apart. there’s too much on his mind, too many things unknown, and when he closes his eyes all he can see is you walking in with some new guy.

he can’t sleep alone anymore. not without you. not without the lullaby of your quiet sighs, the feeling of your nails gently scratching his back, your warm breath on the back of his neck. the scent of your shampoo. the way your cold feet press against the warmth of his legs. the feeling of your skin as he traces shapes onto it mindlessly.

just for a moment, he allows himself to remember the more intimate moments. that night in the hideaway, when he first learned how euphoric it felt to move inside you. those early mornings you’d get him off with your mouth before anyone else was awake. the way you’d grip his back as his hips rolled into yours. the sound of his name escaping your lips in ragged, desperate breaths.

god, he’s in love with you.

gary rolls onto his side. “you’d say you’re pretty good mates with lottie, yeah?”

he doesn’t have to whisper, because noah’s still snoring.

“guess so,” bobby answers. “why?”

“you think we’d be able to make a real go of it after that hannah thing?”

“honest opinion, gaz?” gary hums a response. “yeah, i think you could.”

gary smiles to himself, thankful he’s able to keep it secret in the dark. he likes lottie, quite a bit actually, but he still needs to figure out some things — still has some guilt to let go of.

he babbles on for a bit, sharing stories about his nan he thinks bobby might find funny. bobby spends so much of his time trying to fix everyone else, all gary wants to do is return the favor. take his mind off the recoupling, lucas, casa amor.

they talk until the sun begins to rise, oranges and pinks and reds reflecting off the still water of the pool. they fall asleep to the sounds of birds chirping and noah’s relentless snoring, knowing any moment now someone’s phone will go off and they’ll be ripped from the quiet calm of sleep.

in his dreams, bobby sees you. in another world, far away from the villa, your hair blows in the wind. all he can smell is the sea and the faint earthiness of your perfume. you smile at him over a mug of tea. he wraps you in his arms and presses a kiss to the side of your temple. you tell him you love him, and he’s in such disbelief all he can do is boop your nose.

how could someone like you love someone like him? in his dreams he doesn’t care — all that matters is that you do. and that you mean it. he tells himself he’ll do whatever it takes to hear you say those words forever, over and over, and he’ll never get tired of hearing them.

two more days were all that kept you apart. two more days of bobby’s silent prayers for you not to forget him, to keep him close to your heart just a little bit longer.

noah claps him on the back before he steps into the villa. he’d stuck, desperate to get back to hope the same way bobby was desperate to get back to you. he knew it was risky, knew there was always the possibility marisol had finally met someone and left him vulnerable. but he didn’t care; he had to try.

“moment of truth, eh?” noah says. he’s six-plus feet of nervous energy and butterflies.

“at least it’s over.”

the producers send him out somewhere in the middle. it’s all he can do to keep his eyes open. his feet drag like cement bricks.

please be alone.

please be alone.

please be alone.

he rounds the corner and cracks a joke while his eyes scan the fire pit for the only person there who truly matters.

and there you are, sat next to chelsea, your hand gripping hers so tight it looks painful.

you’re alone.

relief floods the both of you instantly. you throw yourself into bobby’s arms before you even realize you’ve stood up. his arms wrap you tight, his face nuzzling into your hair. you breathe him in, dizzying your senses, as bobby whispers nonsense into your ear.

you realize his voice is thick with emotion and pull back to look at him. his eyes are red and glossy and the color takes your breath away. it kills you that he can’t see himself the way you see him.

“are you crying?” you ask. you cup his face in your hands and he kisses your palm.

“no,” he lies.

you smile. “don’t be a melt. come on, let’s go sit. there’s someone you should meet anyway.”

bobby and graham get acquainted before he settles in next to you. your hands intertwine as you lean against him and say, “i knew you’d stick.”

bobby’s thumb grazes over your knuckles. “figured i owed it to you.”

_because i’m in love with you,_ his brain finishes. _madly, all-consumingly, crazily in love with you._


End file.
